Survivor edited
by leblover
Summary: Voilence is everywhere, chaos is a part of life. And Darius Stabbington has had enough, all he has to do to be free is one last job. But will he live to see freedom? And what's wrong with the blonde haired girl he's supposed to deliver? Dark, future AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: THIS STORY IS BACK! Wahoo! The Hiatus is over! Hey, sorry for the outburst to anyone who hasn't read this already, but for those who have I've finally decided to bring this back. It's been edited on a few parts so I hope it's better than the first time. Enjoy!**

**P.s. I don't own Tangled.**

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><p>Prologue:<p>

The world really is a cold, dark place and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, because it is. Evils like corruption, disease, and war have almost destroyed mankind, and what's left of it is on the brink of chaos. The breakdown in state authority and rule of law has pushed people into insecurity and borderline poverty. The perfect kind of world for ruffians, thugs, and hooligans. Illegal businesses are on the rave and generate billions of dollars; smuggling, dealing, and killing are the new get rich quick businesses. Only the safe havens of North America, Western Europe, and East Asia remain secure and developed. But life has managed to go on, no matter what the conditions.

!#$%^&*()

Darius Stabbington's POV

_'Save the planet.'_ Whenever I read that bumper sticker I had to laugh. _'Save the planet.'_ What for? And from what? Ourselves? Life's real simple; kill or be killed. You wanna stay alive in a world like this, here's what you do; don't get involved in what's not yours, always finish the job your given, and find a place to hide. It's a survivors code; my code. And it all sounds great till the day you're confronted by a choice. A choice to make a difference, to help someone. . .or to walk away and save yourself. I learned something that day; you can't always walk away.

Too bad it was the day I died.

!#$%^&*()

Moscow, Russia. Year 2031, 6 days earlier.

There's always a couple things you should and should not do in life. And no, I'm not talking about little baby stuff like lying, or stealing, or not putting your elbows on a freakin table. People've never stated them but they should just pop up in mind whenever the situation comes along; you should always carry protection with you at all times, you should always keep your head down so not to attract unwanted attention, and you should trust no one. But if there's one thing you should never do, it's rip off an ex-mercenary.

I got ripped off. And nobody rips me off.

I guess that explains why I'm walking in the freezing rain in the middle of Moscow, wearing my worn camo jacket on top a bullet proof vest, and a broken gun strapped on me. The streets were crowded with arms dealers, sellin anything an ex-mercenary like me could ever want; Klasinkovs (my personal favorite), Mac-10s, Dragunov snipers, Mk-19s. Hell, they even had a T-72 tank up for sale. But I wasn't here for those; I needed to return some merchandise. I walked past a familiar olive green tent, inside was a really short man with snow white hair, and crooked teeth. He went by the name Shorty, but to me. . .he's the man that almost got me killed.

I walked in, grabbed him by the chest, and threw 'em outside in the rain. He looked mortified, and he should've been. Better people have tried ripping me off and better men have ended up dead the next day. I hoisted him up to his knees, as a crowd was gathering around us, watchin the show. No one was gonna help him, in this world everyone is on their own, but that didn't stop me from pushing a few guys who came too close back. Shorty was screaming, and wailing, and begging like a fuckin two year old.

So I put my gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger.

But nothing happened. "You see this!" I yelled waving the Beretta in front of his face. "I paid fifty dollars for this shit, and it almost gets me killed!" I then pulled him to his feet, which really didn't make much difference in height, and went through his pockets. "I want my money back."

After I found his stash of cash, I pocketed it, pushed him down for good measure, and walked away like nothing had ever happened. The crowd backed away the second I moved, looking a bit shocked before shaking it off and going back to business as usual. He had way more than 50 bucks on him but I didn't give a damn, finders keepers right?

Yeah I could've killed him, but sometimes it's better to let a few of 'em live, spread the word not to touch this guy or that guy. That's another thing you need in this world to survive; a reputation that'll scare the shit out of people. It's a deterrant, and it works wonders. With that order of business out of the way, I went on to my next one; eat, relax, and stay home till I get another job offer. You could call that being lazy but don't worry, I've got plenty of jobs to keep me busy. By this time tomorrow, I'll probably in a different country, piss a few important people off, get shot at, finish the job, and be home before dinner. . .or not.

I was hoping for _'or not' _but I wouldn't bet on it.

!#$%^&*()

I walked into a faded white apartment building out in the suburbs of Moscow. It was. . .to be frank, a crappy place; the walls had some scattered bullet holes, the ceiling pipes leaked a few times, and it reeked of wet dog smell. But it wasn't any less crappy than other places in the city. It was in one of the safer areas, and the neighbors were quiet so I wasn't complaining much. I was about to unlock the door to my place when I noticed a group of little red-haired girls peering at me from the apartment next to mine. The door was opened slightly and all you could see were four pairs of eyes and mops of red stacked on top one another.

"Lucy, girls. You're all horrible at spying, stop trying." I said without even looking at them.

I heard a _'humph'_ and the light tapping of feet as they appeared next to me. I stared at them, a small smirk played across my face. It was too cute to see they were picking up a few of my skills. . .or at least trying to. For some reason, they got really attached to me, like I was a hero to them. Every time, they'd look up at me with awe, probably cuz I was a giant in their eyes. They all knew what I did for a living, of at least Lucy, the oldest of the four who was around eight, did.

"How was work?" Lucy asked with her Russian accent, looking all innocent with her hands behind her back, and head slightly tilted to the side.

My smirk widened as I unlocked the door. "I didn't have work today. Your English is getting pretty good, you been practicing on the book I gave ya?"

She nodded with a toothy grin. "Every day. I teach too." she said motioning to her sisters, who looked at me with those awe-struck puppy dog eyes, and waved.

"Good, bye girls." I said waving back, and opened the door.

"Dari, people was here looking for you today."

My smile faded as I sighed. "They always are." was the last thing I said before closing the door behind me.

20 minutes later, I had a piece of steak skinned and on the frying pan, along with a few onions and carrots on the side. The TV was on with some news report about deadly shootings in Uzbekistan or something other country like that. I turned it off; when you're in this business, you get tired of hearing that shit everyday, especially since you caused it a few times. I like to enjoy my meals in silence anyway. I plated the food on the table, poured myself a glass of wine, took a drink, and sat down, my back facing the door. It was a table for two, but the other seat hasn't been used in three years. It was his seat; my brother's. That was until he _'left the business'_, so to speak. And with the way my life was going, I'll probably end up the same way.

I had just taken a few bites, when I heard a ticking noise that made me freeze.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick._

My instincts took over as I covered my food and braced myself. I heard a _'Boom'_ come from my door, and felt flying pieces of debris and dusk against my bullet-proof vest.

Great, what did I do now?

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><p><strong>AN: I'd personally like to thank Tangledsawesome, Reverend Lovejoy, and susan friedman for encouraging me not to give this story up, I can't thank you three enough for the advice. And I know for a fact that you (Tangledsawesome) will be extatic to see this come back. **

**I had given up on this story once because of a lack of feedback, which is the 1# cause of story cancelations, but I won't do it a second time. All I ask for, is a simple review. That's all we want as writers, to know what our readers think, so if you could review I'd greatly appreciate that.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chap 2

Darius Stabbington's (a.k.a Sideburns) POV

The next thing I heard was the stomping of boots on the floor, angry men shouting in Russian, and more importantly, the sound of guns clicking. I made the mistake of looking back where my door (should have) been. There was a gaping hole in its place with a group of 6 or 7 men in full black, tactical gear armed with machine guns and laser pointers stepping inside, all pointing their weapons at me. Looks like someone bribed a S.W.A.T team. Last time I checked, those guys didn't come cheap. One of 'em stepped closer, aiming his PK rifle at the back of my head. "Stand up, Sideburns." he said with a rough American accent.

That voice, I knew that voice. But could it be? "Greno is that you?" I asked.

"Come on Sideburns, make this easier on yourself for once." He replied.

Oh it was definitely him. The thought made me smile; this'll be easier than cracking an egg. "I thought you were in Sudan, killing babies."

"Yeah well, fetching your sorry ass pays better. So, are you gonna get the fuck up or not?" he said poking my head with his gun.

I admit, that irritated me, made wanna kill 'em. But I'd make my move once he does. "Remember the last time we met? I told you if you ever point that gun at me again. . .I'd kill you."

He laughed shortly. "Yeah well, I'd hate to break this to ya but things have changed. So, you wanna come in quietly or am I gonna have to drag your half dead body out?"

I ignored his question and pondered over my situation. He was sent for, that was pretty obvious, and someone was payin him big bucks to do it. But who? And why? "Now who would hire a baby killer to come get me?" I asked rhetorically.

And then, the grabbed my shoulder and tried to force me up. Apparently he didn't like being ignored. But I grabbed his hand and elbowed him in the face. He staggered a few steps back as I got out of my chair. Then he tried to whack with the butt of his gun; I grabbed his arms, kneed him in the stomach, smacked his head against the table, and flipped his gun on him all in one fluid motion. The barrel was pointed at his throat and my finger was on the trigger. "WHO SENT YOU!" I shouted at him.

I noticed the other guys didn't come to help; they just stepped closer and held their guns tighter. Even in a damn S.W.A.T team there's no loyalty.

"Fuck you Sideburns." Greno mumbled against the table. So I turned the safety off and pressed it more forcefully onto his neck. "Who sent you?" I asked with dead seriousness.

"It was Hook okay. Hook!" he answered.

I let out an angry sigh. 'What the fuck did he want?' I thought. His name was Hook Hand, it wasn't his real name but that wasn't important. He lost his left hand in a grenade explosion, so he got a mechanical hook-like claw for a hand instead. Now he's the biggest, most powerful crime boss on this side of Europe, whose guts I also happen to hate deeply. But if he went through all this trouble just for me, then something big must be goin down.

I eased off Greno so he could at least stand, but I kept pointing the rifle at 'em. "Look at you." I said disgusted. "You're a disgrace to the profession. You're not a mercenary, you're a terrorist! There's only two things that count in this business; your balls and your word. And you ain't got shit!"

"But you wanna know the difference between you and me?" I continued. "I still got both." Then I pulled the trigger, and he fell to the ground dead.

I dropped the gun and put my arms up in surrender as the guys started waving their guns and shouting in Russian. "It's okay." I said to them. "Personal business between him and me." Then I grabbed my camo jacket as they _'escorted'_ me out the room.

!#$%^&*()

It was nighttime and the rain had stopped when I got outside. There was a convoy of two tanks and an armored personnel carrier waiting for me. Hook's security entourage. One of the guys opened the backdoor to the carrier and nudged me inside.

The interior was pure white leather, a row of flat screen TVs acted as windows, and in the middle was a glass coffee table with a lota booze. Expensive shit for what's supposed to be a military vehicle. But I didn't give a crap about those, I just kept glaring at the short, chubby man with a weird Chinese mustache, a bronze hook, and matching white sweat pants sitting down. I took a seat across from him as the door closed and we started moving; the TV screens providing a view of the outside.

"You're a hard man to find Darius." He said with a smug grin.

I sneared, just the sight of him was enough for my blood to boil. But I had to keep my cool, he wanted something from me, and I had to find out what. "I'm not hiding. And you could've knocked." I corrected.

"Well where's the fun in that?" he replied with a grin that I so badly wanted to ripe off.

"What do you want anyway?" I asked irritated.

His smile faded, and he grew serious. "I need a smuggler."

I sighed, this is what he wanted? You'd think a big crime boss like him would be able to find a thousand other men to do that, men who didn't want to kill him. "I. Don't. Do. Refugees anymore." I said extra slow, just so it can get through his thick skull. "Use your own men, your own cargo. And besides, you control all the borders anyway."

"Only on this side."

I raised my eyebrows. "This is an overseas delivery?" I asked with a bit of shock. Interesting, very interesting. . .but not good enough, I could never forget what he did to- then again, I was running low on money too. Any job would've been great, but I'm not so sure on this one.

"A girl," he began. "She needs to be in America in 6 days. New York, to be more specific." _'America'_ I thought, home sweet home. But now it's too good to be true.

"You're wasting your time." I said with a sigh. "I'm blacklisted, you know I'd never make it past the border. You know United Nations passports are impossible to fake." Yeah, passports are a tricky thing nowadays. It's not papers and pictures anymore, those can be faked. It's a blood test, and you can't fake blood.

But then, Hook pulled out a syringe filled with a strange yellow liquid with his hook/claw. "This is not a fake." He said, handing it (bad pun) to me. "Inject this into your neck 24 hours before you cross the border."

I stared at it in awe; a real U.N. passport. Or in other words, my one way ticket out of Hell and onto home.

"There will be a car, waiting for you to take you to the girl. Everything you'll need will be in the trunk." Hook finished. But now comes the closing act; terms of payment. My mind was made up.

"I'll do it for half a mill." I said.

He snickered. "I can make you do it for free."

I grinned. "You can't make me do shit, Hook. It's either 500 grand, or no deal."

"Look at you Darius. I know you. You've got nothing, no family, and no friends. You're just surviving. . ." he said emphasizing the word "In this shit hole without a clue of what to do the next day. You need this job."

"Listen Hook." I said leaning in closer. "I can't trust you and you can't trust me. I want half a mill waiting for me in New York or it's no deal."

Then, the carrier stopped. We reached my destination. Hook pondered over the offer, staring at me like he owned me, but he didn't. He knew me better than that, and he especially knew what I could do. "If you try to run, if you try to cross me or rip me off, I can promise you you'll have no place to hide anymore."

It was my turn to lean in close. "That goes both ways. . .Hook."

"You've got your deal. Now get the fuck out of my ride."

The back door opened and I stepped outside. Then they drove off at full speed, leaving me alone in. . .in Red Square. How ironic. I tried lighting a cigarette to pass the time but my damn lighter was broken, so I threw it away. A few minutes later, I heard an engine rumbling. Then, a blinding light came from the sky, and the engine sound grew louder like it was spinning; it was a helicopter. Slowly the wind from the propellers felt stronger as the heli lowered something down. It was a (you guessed it) a car. A 4-door 1970's Mercedes with a faded gray paint job and barred windows all held by a magnet on top. I looked up at the chopper with a look that said 'You're kiddin right?'

Shaking my head, I stepped in the car, and closed the door as the chopper took off. It's been a rough day and this was gonna be a long ride so I decided to catch some Z's while I can. In 6 more days, I get my freedom; freedom from this life, freedom from this world gone wrong. That was the last thought I had as I closed my eyes to a 500 foot view of Moscow and fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chap 3

Darius Stabbington's POV

I woke up to a loud _'THUD!'_ as the car started bouncing, causing me to hit my head off the low ceiling. "Ow." I said rubbing my head. I grunted and stepped out of the car. I had to narrow my eyes as I did cuz I wasn't used to the bright sunlight. I could hear the sound of the choppers propellers getting farther and farther away. How long was I out?

I took a look around, and I realized. . . 'Darius, I don't think I'm in Russia anymore'. The air was humid and way too warm for this time of winter; it was still cold yeah, but it wasn't freezing cold like good 'ol Moscow. Then there was the giant clearing in front of me, with its withering yellowish-green grass beneath my boots, its small waterfall and stream cutting through the ground, and there was also the tall white stone, red roof tower in the middle. Where the Hell was I?

I was too busy asking myself that, I didn't even notice a woman was walking up to me until she said. "Good morning, you must be Darius."

I looked over to her. She was in her late 30's or early 40's with curly, charcoal black hair and metallic gray eyes. She was wearing a crimson red sweater under her black overcoat with a scarf, and was holding a dark blue duffle bag. "My name is Mother Gothel, now I just need to bring three simple rules to your attention before we start our journey."

"We?" I repeated with raised eyebrows. Just by the way she introduced herself, and the fact she knew my name, I had a feeling this wasn't my _'package'_ so to speak. "I'm here to pick up one girl."

"Wherever she goes, I go. That's rule number one." She said with stern authority, like she was talking to an ill behaved child. If only she really knew who she was talking to. "Rule number two: the less contact she has with the outside world, the better. You're here to protect her from any outside influences, which includes seeing, hearing, and feeling." Her tone was parental and almost patronizing. I didn't like it. But I managed a smile cuz her rules were really that ridiculous. I am nobody's babysitter.

"Well it's a tough world out there sister." I said sarcastically.

"I know." She replies seriously. "That's why we live in here."

I sighed; my sense of humor was lost on her. "Shit, okay what's your third rule?"

"No foul language." My smile faded and almost dropped to a sneer. You've gotta be bullshitting me. "Now, do we have an agreement?" she asked.

Perfect, now it's my turn. I almost laughed at the thought of how to say what I was gonna say. "You listen to my one and only rule. . ." I trailed off and took a deep breath. "Don't fuck with me. Cuz if you do, I'll leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothin but your ass to sell to get back to this. . ." I looked around for added emphasis "perfect world of yours. Do we have an agreement?" I finished while staring her down.

She almost sneered at me and stared back with her ice cold gray eyes. "Obviously you're not a gentleman." She said harshly.

"Obviously not." I answered not breaking the tense staring contest between us.

"Now that we understand each other, pick up the bags." She said dropping it to my feet and walking back to the tower.

I watched her go up a staircase on the side and disappear. Then, something from the tower caught my eye. I looked up and saw one of the window shutters was opened slightly. After a second or two, it closed quickly; someone was watching from up there.

I starred at it for a few more seconds before ignoring it, grabbing the bag, and throwing it in the trunk. Inside was a briefcase, 2 Beretta's, and an M-16._ 'That's it? That's all Hook leaves me for 6 days?'_ I thought. Shaking my head in irritation, I opened the case. There was a set of maps, some fake documents, and about 10 grand in non sequential Benjamins. _'Now that's more like it.'_ I thought, taking out the map.

There was a giant _'You are here!'_ sign in the middle; South-east Germany, huh, that explains a lot. I expanded it more to get a wider view; there was a train station close by we could take. I expanded it again into a global view to map the best route. The fastest way would be to cross the Atlantic from Spain or the U.K, but me and Western Europe aren't the closest of friends, and I could only use the passport once. There was also the problem of the East Coast being the most heavily guarded waters in the world. I'd play it safe, and on my own turf. We'll head east, on the Trans-Siberian rails to the Bering Strait. From there, I know a friend who smuggles people to Alaska by boat. The rails would take about 4 days, the boat half a day, and another day to get to the mainland U.S. If we go fast enough, we'd make it right on time, may spare a few hours to see Time Square or something.

By the time I closed the trunk, Gothel or whatever the Hell her name was, was walking back but this time. . .with a short girl behind her, a short girl with really, I mean REALLY long blonde hair trailing behind her. The damn thing was braided and it just barely brushed off the ground. The girl was wearing a zipped up purple jacket and blue jeans, and her eyes never left the ground, as if she didn't wanna be rude or something. She had a pretty face, but looked way too young; not a day over 16-17 at least. She just gave off this aura of innocence. It was. . .unnatural and yet. . .refreshing, and completely natural. I didn't have to ask to know this was the girl I'm supposed to be delivering. But I also knew. . .there's something different about this girl. But what?

Being the gentleman I normally try not to be, I opened the car door as they approached. Gothel waited for her to get in first, but the girl stopped and looked up at me. She had the brightest green eyes I've ever seen; they were mesmerizing to stare at.

"What's your name?" she asked in a soft voice.

I was taken aback. "My name?" I repeated like an idiot.

"You didn't introduce yourself." She replied. Well, she's well mannered. Yeah, like that'll get you anywhere in this life.

Then her mother stepped in. "You don't have to talk to him." She said to her with a hand on her shoulder.

"My name's Darius." I said without thinking. Why did I just answer her?

"Are you taking us to New York?"

"Yes. Now please, get into the car." I say more politely than normal.

But she didn't move, she just kept staring at me with those big green eyes of hers. "Are you a killer, Mr. Darius?"

Now I'm done with the questions. Why does she even wanna know? Why should I even answer? No one gives a damn about other people's names; it's every man for himself out there. And the less personal business is, the better; too bad I had to lose a brother to learn that. I lean in close just to make it extra clear to her. "Look lady, I'm just the delivery boy, and you're just a package to me, nothing more. I'm not your brother, I'm not your friend, and I'm not your boyfriend. In 6 days I'm delivering you and never seeing you again. Your Mother's right, we shouldn't even talk. Now get in."

She does this time, slowly and a bit shaken. Gothel gives me a look that says _'you went too far'_ and follows in behind her. I close the door, get into the driver's seat, and drive off.

This is gonna be a long 6 days.

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><p><strong>AN: So? What do you think? Is it better than last time? Were they a bit too OOC? Cuz I've decided to tweak a few things on Mother Gothel, but you'll see that later. Anyway, REVIEW PLEASE!**


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